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Aging Show Horse


A beautiful creature, who was strong and sturdy,
Now weak with memories of well executed jumps.
Beauty laid behind those eyes, yet
Dimmed so by the cares of contest.
Hair which had been plaited and luxurious hangs loose,
forgetting the lustre of youth for the lesser upkeep of age.
Animal sweat hangs like moss clinging to our nostrils
Her voice strains like an out of tune piano,
Her brays are like sandpaper.
The ghosts of riders loved and lost heave pressure on her back.
Lack of rest makes her stumble
In her mad trek to remain worthy,
To remain relevant,
To remain mother.

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Update: October 27, 2007